Madness
by Lurkany
Summary: Everyone knows Agent Washington's AI went crazy, but how? When? What happened after? Slight deviation from the canon.
1. Chapter 1

Hola, people! This is my first Red vs Blue fic so please leave a review and let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Descent**

"Agent York. I advise caution."

"Yeah, no kidding, D."

"No, it is not because of the current situation."

Click. Click. Click.

"What do you mean?"

"Agent Washington's combat effectiveness since coming on this mission with us has increased between 54 and 82 percent depending on the situation. A likely result from his AI."

"And?"

"And I believe he could win if he so chose to fight you, Agent York."

Click.

"So we'll be careful."

"I'm sorry. I am so s-s-sorry." Tears rolled down the man's face, unseen by his companion. He shook his head slowly, aimlessly recocking and firing his pistol. Click. His hand holding the weapon trembled as he pointed it at his temple. "Don't... Don't sa-say goodbye. I hate - hate goodbyes."

"Wash?" York started. "Hey, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

The sitting figure merely shuddered and recocked the gun.

 _Click_.

"Hey, Wash. Why don't you give me the gun, all right?" The man on the ground twitched his head and pressed the gun more firmly against his helmet. York swallowed and took a step forward. He knew that the gun was empty but that didn't mean Wash couldn't simply reload and actually take himself out. It'd be over faster than he could stop Washington. "We'll catch the Pelican out of here and we can go home. That sounds good, doesn't it?"

"I...can't." His voice strained. Click. "I ca-can't keep doing thissss. I'm so tired..." Click.

York reached out and put one hand on his shoulder and the other on Wash's wrist. The man let out a low growl and resisted when York tried to force his wrist away. "Wash... please."

"Agent York. I am detecting neural patterns indicative of increased agitation. May I suggest -"

York pried at Washington's hand to get the pistol. Wash growled in response then jerked York off of his feet when the latter tried harder. "Wash, no! Give me th- uh!"

The grey clad Freelancer twisted York's arm, pressing his foot into York's shoulder. "I am not going back! I can't!" There was an edge of panic to his voice. York grunted, mildly happy that his teammate dropped the gun but none too pleased about the boot grinding into his shoulder.

"Agh - Wash, c'mon!" He felt Wash's grasp lessen for the briefest of moments and made his move. He grabbed Wash's hand and pulled down, throwing him just enough off balance to wriggle out from under his boot. York found his footing just in time to catch Wash's knee to the side. In no time they were locked in hand to hand combat, York defending.

Washington lashed out, voice high and nearly hysterical as he yelled: "I am not going back!"

"Agent York, if I may. Agent Washington is weaker on his right side. A takedown maneuver has an 87 percent chance of success if initiated from his right."

All York had to do was wait for the right opening. When it came he grabbed Washington's arm and threw him down onto forest floor. York immediately pinned his comrade, breath coming in pants. Washington shuddered, breath coming in rasps as the tears started again, pooling at the bottom of his helmet seal. "Please... Please just let me die. I can't... It's too ha- hard."

"Wash. Wash we're gonna get you some help."

"Agent York, I do not think it is Washington that needs help."

 _CRACK!_

Washington's helmet-clad head slammed into York's. In that stunned moment Washington shoved York off of him and bolted.

"Dammit! Wash!" York tore after him, jumping over tree roots and dodging low branches.

"Come in York. York, do you copy?" North. A hint of concern laced his voice over the sound of gunfire in the background.

"Now's not the time, North!" York huffed back, stumbling over a rock.

"We need the alarms s-"

"We have complications on our end!" York managed, lunging towards Wash. He narrowly dodged, frantically repeating the same nonsense over and over again.

"Shit! Tex is here!"

"Then - hah - let her deal with it!" York tumbled, swinging at Wash's foot. The young man tripped, scrambling to get back his footing. York threw himself at Wash, wrapping him in a bear hug and slamming him against a tree.

Wash sobbed. "I coul... I couldn't save her. It didn't matter wha... She always - al - alwa..."

"Wash..."

"I... am so sorry."

"...York. I do not believe Washington is in control."

"You mean Epsilon? Is that even -?"

"Theoretically, an AI can overwhelm the human host. It is a simple matter of finding a correct neural link between the host and the AI and exploiting any inherent weakness the host might possess. A lot like hacking a terminal, for example, York. Only, successfully. There is the extremely unlikely scenario in which an AI's personality matrix is strong enough to subdue the host without the neural link."

"So, you're saying it's Epsilon."

"Yes."

Washington had stopped fighting. His incoherent words turned into silence broken by his uncontrolled breathing. York slowly loosened his hold on the man and helped him to the ground. Washington pulled his knees up, rested his elbows on them and hung his head. His fingers twitched and his shoulders shook.

"York, come in." There was a pause before South continued. "Where the hell are you guys?"

York kept his eyes trained on Washington as he responded, "About two klicks southeast."

"Two klicks? There's nothing out there but forest." North responded, worry in his voice.

"I know. There were... complications." Wash started rocking as quiet, strangled sobs wracked his body. York placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and lightly shook. Nothing. "We're...we're gonna help you Wash. You too, Epsilon."

That seemed to help a little as Wash stopped rocking, stopped moving altogether. "You... mean... we're going back?" His voice was barely above a whisper, words quavering as they escaped into the air.

York could feel Delta in his head saying yes. Saying that they were property of Project Freelancer and could only be helped by the provided health facilities of Project Freelancer. That would be protocol. He managed to get Delta to remain silent. Instead, York knelt beside Wash and supplied a different answer. "We're gonna take you where you feel comfortable. Someplace we can get you the help you need."

The grey helmet lifted to look at York. "I don't want to be helped. I just want to - to forget." His fingers aimlessly tapped at his armor clad legs, head slowly shaking. "I... I know you will take me back. _There_. I - I don't want to go back. I won't." Wash started rocking back and forth again, quicker this time. "No, nononono, no, no I - I..." He let out a low whine then sniffled quietly. "I - I am so sorry."

"Epsilon, I am detecting instability within your unit. I recommend shutting down and allowing Agent York to pull you to prevent further damage."

" _NO_." He growled, rocking back and forth. "I will not - Shut down? Shu- No. No, I - I hate goodbyes. Goodbyes." Wash shook his head, seemingly stuttering over his words as he repeated himself over and over again. He leaned forward, throwing his arms behind his head. "Don't say it. I hate - hate good - goodbyes. See each other. Again."

"Whoa, it's okay Wash. You don't have to say goodbye. We're not going anywhere." York placed his hand on Wash's back, attempting to stop him from his rocking.

"I do not understand. Epsilon -"

"D, stop." Every time Delta spoke Wash became agitated. York could tell by the way he would jerk his head to one side and scrape his fingers over his armor.

"Stop. Stop. Sssstop - _stop_ it." Wash muttered, angrily. His rocking stopped abruptly. "S-stop. Shut down. I hate goodbyes. Don't - can't - go back. Want to for-" Wash slowly lifted his head. His arms dropped and his legs stretched out before him. His head craned towards York and stared for the longest time before whispering, "Goodbye, brother."

Washington's body tensed for a second; his back arched slightly and his arms lifted a fraction as his hands froze into claws. Then he screamed. It tore through his throat and echoed through the woods. He immediately clutched his helmet, snarls of agony escaping through clenched teeth. He fell to the side and curled his body into a ball as he started clawing at his helmet. York grabbed at his hands, afraid Wash might hurt himself. He thrashed even harder, bashing his helmeted head against the ground as the inhuman sounds continued to claw their way from his throat.

"Wash - Wash, stop!"

Wash wriggled free, tormented sobs mingling with the growling groans he made. He flung his helmet to the side, ignoring it as it bounced off a tree nearby. York could see his face now. Deep red from crying earlier and the pain now wracking through him. His teeth ground together as he screwed his eyes shut. The man rolled onto his knees, fingers flying to the base of his skull.

"Wash - don't!"

Before he could stop Washington, the man had his AI chip out and hurled across the forest floor. The man let out another desperate cry and smacked his face into ground. His fingers dug into the vacant AI slot, tearing. His whole body remained tensed and shaking. "Make it stop! Make it stop!" He shrieked, tears pouring down his face. His feet dug into the dirt as he pressed his head further into the forest floor. His fingers scraped and clawed where the AI had been.

York lunged forward, looping his arms under Wash's and wiggling his hands underneath Wash's frantically clawing fingers. "Mother of - WASH. Please, we're gonna get you -" His elbow came up to catch York in the head. Washginton continued to fight York, fingers scratching the back of York's gloved hands. Trails of blood oozed out from under York's hands and down over the back of Washington's neck. They remained locked that way - York preventing Wash from ripping himself to shreds and the latter trying to throw the former off so he could tear out the voices in his head.

"Wash, please just stop! I don't want to hurt you!"

Wash leaned forward, fingers digging into his skull. "Just make it stop! Please, GOD, make it stop!" He shouted, his voice unrecognizable and hoarse. Desperate. His hands started banging the sides of his head as another wail pierced the forest. He screamed again, breath coming in rasps. York wrapped his arm around Wash's neck, locking his other arm around the back of his head. Wash struggled for a few moments before going limp in his arms. York let Wash sink to the ground, turning him on his side. York heard footsteps approaching and grabbed his gun. The purple clad figure breaking through the forest put York at ease.

"What the hell?" North asked, weapon half raised.

"Wash and Epsilon went crazy." York supplied, motioning to Wash as he said it.

"Correction, Epsilon went "crazy," Agent York."

"Yeah, thanks, D. That really matters."

"I don't want to go crazy." Came the timid voice of Theta. The purple AI hid partially behind North. The fragment studied Wash's face, focusing on the way his eyes were screwed shut and the way he clenched his jaw.

"You won't, Theta." North reassured. Even as he said it he wasn't sure he fully believed it. "Why is he bleeding? Did you -"

"He ripped his AI out. ...Then he wouldn't stop. He kept trying to tear out his implants." York threw down his healing unit next to Wash. The green light washed over his unconscious friend and only served to emphasize the lines in the young man's face. The light changed the blood on his friend's head and their hands to a sickly color.

"Is he okay?"

"Bioscan complete. Heart rate still elevated, slowly dropping within acceptable ranges. Neural activity is a concern. Scans indicate a dangerous level of pressure building in Agent Washington's brain, likely a combination of -"

"We don't need details, D. Just get us an evac." York tried to move Wash only to find his limbs had seized. "North, gimme a hand."

"Think we should? We could do more damage."

"Paralysis is a result from Washington's injury. The healing unit is functioning in a capacity to prevent further injury and I do not believe moving Agent Washington could injure him more. However, if we do not move him, evac will not be able to retrieve us."

"Is... Is Epsilon still in there?" Theta asked. He had flashed over to where the AI chip lay. His violet figure illuminated the small chip enough for North to snatch it from the ground. "North? I - I don't want that to happen to you."

"It won't, Theta. Don't worry about it, buddy." He smiled, even though the AI couldn't see it.

"Epsilon was an unstable fragment, Theta. We are not." Delta chimed in.

York scooped up Wash's helmet and laid it on its owner's chest. "He's right, Theta. About Epsilon. We'll talk about it later. Let's just get him some help first."

It was a long quiet ride back.


	2. Chapter 2

He stared aimlessly out the window. Barren rock littered with some grass here and there with just enough flowers thrown in to break up the monotony. The sky always held a gold hue to it, even if he knew at least twelve hours had passed. Beyond the rocky landscape he could just make out a body of water. It had to be large because he couldn't see anything past it. An ocean, maybe. His brain tried to figure out where he was.

All he came up with was: a planet.

The man pressed his gloved palms to his eyes, squeezing them shut. He couldn't focus. Couldn't think. No, he was thinking too much. Remembering too much. That's all he did ever since he woke up. Again. Wash tried to remember how long he had slept but the sun never moved position. There was no clock in his room, there was nothing. He knew why it bothered him not knowing the time. He couldn't judge how long he was in his room. Well, the sorry excuse of a room. He couldn't tell how long he had been wherever he was. Didn't know how long he was out. Didn't know how long it had been since he'd seen his friends.

He had no idea how long he had been wearing these ridiculous gloves.

Wash looked down at his hands, frowning. They were really mittens. Thick, unsightly white, sweaty mittens securely fastened to his wrists so he couldn't remove them. He could barely feel anything or do anything with them.

Add that to the list of 'shit I can't do.' Wash thought angrily.

He couldn't take a piss without someone to escort him and help him. They were perfect drones about it too. They didn't say much if they said anything at all. Extremely professional. Assisted eating? Check. Help changing clothes? Check. Bath time? Double check. His whole life had morphed into some sick living nightmare he couldn't escape from. Worse yet no one he knew was trying to help him escape it either.

So he relented and stared out the window. Once and a while he would focus on the glass instead so he could see his reflection. He almost didn't recognize himself. His hair had all been chopped off, right down to the skin. His face was pale and he knew he lost weight since being here. He could just make out the edge of a scar at the back of his head too. Beyond that he didn't know how bad it was. He made the mistake of trying to feel for it once. He quickly concluded he shouldn't poke at it. At all. Especially with his golf club hands now.

He sighed again, eyes staring off into the distance. He knew why he was here. Sort of. He vaguely remembered Epsilon's screaming in his head. It was more like a single, high pitched note that drowned everything else out but he knew Epsilon was done. He remembered bits and pieces, mostly everything before implantation and tidbits after the fact.

Still. It didn't explain why he was here with no one in contact. At the very least where was the Counselor? He was in charge of their mental health, wasn't he? No way Project Freelancer would allow an outside psychiatrist to treat him. Maybe that was the deal. This was a weird body dump where they didn't actually put a bullet in him but let him rot away, stewing in his own crazy.

They wouldn't do that, would they?

Wash looked down at his feet. Would they? He thought back on some of the other Freelancers. The triplets. They were sent on a mission they never came back from. Wash knew they didn't have anything worth retrieving but their mission was never followed up. No one spoke of them again. Like they were never even there. Rhode Island was never talked about again after his mission went south with California. He hadn't a clue what happened to Georgia. And Virginia? Wash suppressed a shudder. He was glad they put a bullet in her. Or, he hoped they did. Poor woman. All of them were forgotten by the project though. Left behind.

Still. Where was the Counselor? What about the Director? He may not have been their best agent but he was good enough to get an AI. He knew that meant something to them. It should have meant more since Epsilon blew up in his head. What if the other AI were unstable and did the same? What did they plan on doing about that?

The thought occurred that, maybe, just maybe, they had planned on that happening.

After all those two always seemed to take into account every other aspect of every mission that the Freelancers went on. They always seemed to know when they needed back up or when they needed an ammo drop - everything. It wasn't until the AI started getting mixed in and Tex showing up that they were less capable of adapting to the situation. Especially after Tex.

Why was Agent Texas the one that got special treatment anyway? She might have been the best but Carolina had been number one far longer than Tex and she received no special treatment during that time. None of them did. If anything the Director had been harsher on Carolina. Wash sighed. No, she was hard on herself. Once she decided on something it had to be that way. No one could convince her otherwise. Except the Director. She bent over backwards to please the guy - something he could never understand. The sheer commitment she had to him and the program. No one else had the same drive as she did.

It made him angry thinking about it. Not because of her commitment but because of the disregard they had for it. It hurt the team seeing their best not being good enough. Never good enough. Not for the Director or the Counselor and especially not for herself. He always felt sad about that. The way she couldn't see how amazing she really was. She didn't have to compare herself to anyone but she did. All the time. Especially when Texas came along. After that, Carolina was always "never good enough." It pained him to see that.

Then there was York. He loved that woman. To death. No matter what she did or how badly she treated him he was by her side. It didn't matter if she brushed off his attempts to console her after a failed mission. He knew she felt the same, even if she didn't show it. Just before his last mission Wash could see the strain on them though. York had talked to Tex a lot and any association with her rubbed Carolina wrong. He hoped she got over it. York didn't care about anyone else but her when it came down to it. Wash only hoped that Carolina could see how much she meant to him. They deserved some sliver of happiness .

His mind drifted to North and his sister. The twins. The way the two of them worked together was magic. When it worked. South had always been arrogant. Always feeling the need to prove herself - even to the point of failing a mission. He felt sorry for North sometimes. He had to put up with that his whole life. Such a caring and nice guy having to deal with that thing brought a smile to his face just thinking about it. Those two were polar opposites - one quiet, the other loud. One patient while the other wasn't. Despite their different personalities the two of them worked like a well oiled machine usually. He wondered how they got picked. Surely a set of twins wasn't an ideal set of candidates for implantation. It would cause discord if they didn't both get one - which he definitely saw happening when North got Theta. He saw South pushing herself harder and harder to prove she deserved one. It wasn't fair that the Director pitted them against one another the way he did. They never should have been accepted into the program.

Wash glared at his toes, sifting through his thoughts on the twins until they settled upon Wyoming. Not a fan. He had skills, sure, but his personality was lacking. The man always rubbed him the wrong way but Wash liked to think he was nice regardless. And dear GOD the knock-knock jokes. Some days he wanted to cut the man's tongue out. Or hope what happened to Maine happened to him. What a relief that would have been if the white armored bastard never spoke again.

As for Maine? He liked Maine. Despite the fact the tank never said much he was a good guy. Damn skilled too, especially after Sigma. Man could drink like nobody's business. He let a small smile linger on his lips as he recalled a night out when Maine ended up drinking the lot of them under the table and still managed to keep drinking. His face fell as he thought about how he had changed. He mused that getting shot in the throat and nearly dying (repeatedly) does that to a person. He recalled how creepy his AI was too. The man grit his teeth just thinking about it. Sigma unnerved him the moment he saw it. The way it spoke, the way it helped Maine. Now he felt a little sick considering that thing being in Maine's head for so long.

Wash inhaled deeply, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down. His skin crawled. The Sigma AI was something else. He wondered what would have happened had Carolina gotten him after all. Maybe things would have been different. Instead she let them give it to Maine - it made sense since he couldn't speak well. But then she did a complete 180 on her opinion on AI and took two AI for herself. His and South's. He felt upset at first when she chose both. He realized though that she had earned the right to take them so he let it go. South did not. She was quite vocal about it. He wondered how things would have been if she didn't take Eta and Iota. Would Epsilon still have gone off? What if it had been South that got him instead?

Wash swallowed. Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. He had only begun to sift through the AI's memory dump - only began to understand some of it - so the thought of her having him meltdown in her head...

What if it had been Carolina?

The man shook his head, feeling everything start to jumble up. The possibilities were endless. What if this or what if that? He didn't like those thoughts. Wash pulled his knees tight against his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. No. He did not like thinking about the possibilities. What if he didn't like the outcomes? What if there was no end to the outcomes? Or, worse yet, no end to the possibilities where the outcomes always ended badly? He didn't like simulations. Didn't like to think about the factors that went into it or the results. No. Nonononono they always ended bad.

He rocked a little.

They always ended in death. Someone died. Someone important. He couldn't forget that. Never did it fail, regardless of how perfectly planned, someone died. She died. Every time. He didn't like the fact he could never save her.

No.

Wash shook his head.

No.

Wash rest his head on his knees with his eyes screwed shut. He tried to breathe deeply to slow his racing heart but all he could think about were the never ending simulations. He remembered the first ones - the first ones always bothered him the most.

 _"All right, everything looks good so far, Director. All that's left is extraction." He looked up to see the Director's face. No emotion. He shrugged mentally and continued extrapolating information._

 _"There's an issue with the extraction point, reroute." The Director said, voice calm._

 _"What? I'm not detecting an issue."_

 _"I said reroute."_

 _"Well, okay, but I'm telling you there's nothing wrong." He recalculated and half a second later said, "there, that's closer anyways. I suggest using an attack pelican with the modded -"_

 _"Thank you, that will be enough."_

 _He shrugged and continued examining the data constantly streaming in. Eternity flitted by - in reality it was more like ten minutes but time goes faster as an AI - and the director let out a sigh. He looked up to see his face. The man's eyebrows were together, lips pursed and facing away from the screen. He looked to his stream, wondering what the deal was. No response. Nothing in the feed to indicate something when awry._

 _"I'm sorry." The Director murmured, shaking his head._

 _"Sorry? For what? What happened?"_

 _"You didn't see?" Genuine surprise laced his words, then his face fell flat again. "The explosion killed three of our agents."_

 _"What? What explosion? Who - who did it kill?"_

 _"Agents Maine, Georgia and..."_

 _"And who?" There were only two other choices. Just a 50 percent chance it wasn't -_

 _"Texas."_

 _'But - but that doesn't make any sense." His brain reeled. He shook his head, recalling the entire feed in an instant. Mission start, no alarms. One alarm, neutralized threat, objective reached. Firefight. Targets down, objective seized, extraction. Reroute._

 _The reroute. What had been wrong with the first extraction? How had he missed it?_

 _"No life signs. Beacons down." The Director said, interrupting his thoughts._

 _"No, no. Why did I extract there?" He felt nauseous. Well, if he could. "That doesn't make sense either, that explosion shouldn't have happened. Not where it did. The schematics don't show a gas line there."_

 _"Focus." The Director's sharp tone brought his attention back. "We need you on the mission."_

 _"The - the mission's over, you said everyone died."_

 _"What are you talking about?"_

 _He paused, genuinely confused now. "Literally a second ago. I have the feed right here."_

 _"You must have confused that with a simulation."_

 _He thought, actually thought, about it for a minute. Could he have...?_

 _"The mission, please." The Director insisted._

 _Again, he assisted with mission details. Again, she died. And again they started. The fourth time he shook his head, feeling angry and confused._

 _"I don't know why you're doing this." He remembered the strain in his tone as the words came out. He had already screamed and broke down when he thought he lost Tex for the third time. This was just ridiculous._

 _"Doing what?" He inquired sincerely._

 _He eyed the Director. "You're forcing me to go through these fake missions. I - I don't know why. It doesn't make any sense. What do you gain from it?"_

 _"You haven't had a mission in days."_

 _"I just had one thirty seconds ago! And one half an hour ago and another one before that an hour and a half ago!"_

 _"Pay attention, they're near -"_

 _"I_ am _paying attention!" He snapped, scanning the variables in the data being fed to him. Was it a test? Don't let Tex die?_

 _"Alarms triggered."_

 _"No, no, no they aren't." He argued, looking through the feed. It felt familiar._

 _"Agent down."_

 _"No, just, just stop this. For one minute."_

 _Her beacon pinged. Mission failure. He let out a strangled moan at his inability to keep her alive._

 _He remembered how long they continued it. He remembered how raw he felt at the end and how badly he wanted them to stop. He didn't care that, sometime around the ninth hour of the relentless assault they (for the Counselor had joined in now) started feeding previous "mission" streams to him._

"Sir?"

 _He felt shattered. He just wanted it to stop. It didn't make any sense._

"Excuse me, sir?"

 _He remembered sitting there, hands clutching his head as he begged them to stop._

"Sir, it's time to eat."

Wash blinked. He could just start to feel the next memory stir and fade away as the woman shook his shoulder. He tried desperately to grab at it but felt it slip away like smoke. He didn't realize how unfocused his gaze was or his slightly ajar mouth. Didn't notice how stiff his knees and back were from holding his position for so long.

"Sir? Are you okay? Do I need to get a doctor?"

He blinked again. White room, window, food. Concern in her voice and face. He shook his head, absently wiping at his eyes. He had cried at some point. He shook his head again.

"No." His voice sounded hoarse. Wash licked his lips and cleared his throat. "No, thank you."

Silence filled the room as she set about feeding him. He always felt embarrassed that she had to. He was capable of it himself but, in some way, he was grateful he didn't have to. He could easily over power her and escape his room - that thought had occurred a thousand times - but he was useless if he couldn't use his hands so it never went beyond a thought. Having her reminded him that he needed to get better though. To stick with all of this - this whatever it was to understand what went on in the background of Project Freelancer. Maybe even be able to do something about it.

He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out. She placed one capsule on it and he obediently swallowed, drinking the water offered. Besides, if the Counselor ever came, he would need to figure out how to contain those memories if one bubbled up when talking to him. As it was he could hardly function when one hit him. She placed another pill on his tongue, gave the scar on his head a once over and left.

The man sighed and looked out the window trying to drum up the memory that slipped away.


End file.
